August
4, 2000 (I
was 55)
The
scent of floral vegetation
that had hung in warm morning air
is dissipated by the ocean breeze
that also chases remnant cloud tissue
up the slope toward Mauna Loa
The laps of relaxing repetition lull
the senses into timelessness
Billfish Tournament boats pace the sea alleys
First the pair of magpie then the doves
make their rounds on the lawn
Cheryl does her languid morning crawl
flick plash forth and back across the pool
Hands of articulate palms practice
delicate gesture and reflective hula
both on the air and over the water
The charter dive boat bobs off the point
Swimmers join the flight circles of mantas
to feel the proximate terror of their mass
and the jolt of awareness
to perceive the self within the greater realm
The quiet pulse of surf plays the lava shore
while summer leaves to become summer
So goes the tropical pattern in days
of here and there over and under
until
from the mountain the thunder
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